“You’ll get nothing here,” says the tinker and the shoemaker.
“Yes, but I will,” says the little manikin.
“No, but you will not,” says the tinker and the shoemaker.
“That we’ll see,” says the manikin; whereupon he spat upon his hands, snatched up his club, and, without more ado, fell upon the tinker and the shoemaker, and began beating them with all his might and main. My goodness, you should have seen how they hopped about like two peas on a drum-head, and you should have heard how they bellowed and bawled for mercy! But the little ugly troll never stopped until he was too tired to drub them any more; then he went away whither he had come, and all that the two fellows could do was to rub the places that smarted the most.
By and by in came the fiddler with his armful of wood, but never a word did the tinker and the shoemaker say, for they had no notion of telling how such a little manikin had dusted the coats of two great hulking fellows like themselves; only the next day they thought that it would be well to rest where they were, for their bones were too sore to be jogging. So they lolled around the house all day, and found everything that they wanted to eat in the cupboards.
After supper there was more wood to be brought in from the forest, and this time it was the tinker and the shoemaker who went to fetch it, for they had settled it between them that the fiddler was to have a taste of the same broth that they had supped.
Sure enough, by and by in came the ugly little troll with the great long cudgel.
“I want something to eat,” says he.
“There it is, brother,” says the fiddler, “help yourself.”
“It is you who shall wait on me,” says the ugly little troll.